He had been thinking a little more about close connections with others after the thought first occurred to him when he was with Volterra. His mother's death had weighed heavily on him, and the more he became aware of his immortality, the more isolating he recognized it would prove to be. Maybe not today, or tomorrow, but eventually, when Öde still stood and everyone else had gone, he would feel it.

Yet, the idea of distancing himself also conflicted with his constant teachings to bring his family closer, both things his grandsire and mother thought important, and something his herd seemed to suggest existed among their ranks (but was that just to get people off their asses and willing ti fight for each other?).

As of now he didn't have enough friends to really worry about it, but he hoped to change that, because emotionally invested or not he knew any good ruler, be it king or god, needed followers. Family was a start, so he turned to Erebos that morning, hoping to play on the colt's youth as a common resource between them to encourage his cousin to go on an adventure with him, the ultimate purpose being for bonding. He had encountered Erebos a few times and the boy always seemed to have someone friendly at his side, could Öde one day be that? He hoped.

"Have you ever been?" he asked as they walked, the Veins looming ahead. He wasn't trying to bring his work into a day meant for fun, but the placed seem just ominous and reckless enough to create friendships.

They walked, three nefarious little objects absorbed by the sun and stars, by the sinister pathways outlining their frames, by the legions of legends scored and incensed amidst their blood – all entirely unaware and ignorant of what the past or future held. Erebos could dream, could aspire, could carve ambitions, but as to what would manifest past the surge of his revenge, the outlet of his passions, the threads of his hate, of his malice, of his menace, remained to be seen. So instead of sculpting the reasons or parallels of his sinister concoctions, he retained the pleasant tidings of his charismatic, conspiring self: ebullient, defiant, and jovial. A smirk, a smile, peeked past the folds of his lips and the pace of his steps, limbs and strides sorted out pretenses, contemplated wiles, leaning closer to the older boy, perfecting youthful intrigue and distortion. Orsino basked in the glow of vile, wild, untamed spirits, bouncing beside forelegs and pillars, another misshapen beast of black and gold. A trio of imperfection and the unknown, searching, surging, for nothing in particular – and perhaps, that was the most dangerous thing of all – to warrant the triad to wander in midst of holy beings and serene outcomes. But the boy yielded to the other’s query, posturing in the midst of the ruins, the arts, the sages, and the shrines, flicking an ear, polishing an act, as if he hadn’t spent hours here just days ago, had not yet finished dusting the ash off his knees. “I have. It’s an intriguing place.” He’d spent several occasions in the wreckage, in the havoc, pleading and begging and wondering. Once he’d been naught more than a small, simple child, running after demons and guarding other babes, and just before, the Sun God had bestowed him with immeasurable wisdom, guidance, and power. It rippled through him now, a burning, churning piece of strength, diligence, and tenacity. A toxic, beautiful rapture, reverence of the forsaken, of Arwen and her last, dying breaths, of his grandsire’s simmering, thorns and knots, a token, a symbol, a representation that somehow, someway, he could simmer and seethe and turn a Colossus into wayward ash and dust.Yet, he didn’t tell Ode. He kept it a secret, a locked away corridor, because he wasn’t sure if the other beast craved the sanction of gods, of goddesses, or if, a tiny, minute possibility, he too might join him on his journey, on his crusade of vengeance and blood. Instead, his inquisitive, mischievous gaze sought out the other’s red, crimson stare, and his mouth formed an impish grin. “Have you met any of the Gods before?”

Zero was on another adventure- an awesome adventure, one with rocks and ocean and lava and maybe whales and definitely getting hopelessly lost. He'd thought he was going to the Heart Caves - planned on it, actually - but as the topography got rough and jagged, inky black and molten red, Zero began to suspect that he'd somehow overshot.

Not that he was upset or anything. Overshooting unfailingly led to excellent adventures.

Zero discovered the Veins with his usual flair for drama and awe, taking it in through sunbeam eyes and then painting an exaggerated picture in his mind. There was a narrow winding path stretching into the ocean, backlit by lava and looking suspiciously treacherous. Wind whistled down the trail, howling his name, kicking up small rocks and scattering sand off the looming peak. Far below dark waves crashed against the molten earth, sending billowing clouds of steam into the air around him: dark, deep, and full of secrets. For a minute Zero stood at the head of the trail, head tilted in curious wonder, silently debating the benefits of traveling up this mysterious path.

(But not really. There was never any question, really, because come on- this looked great!)

Squishy arrived on the boy's heels just as he took that first, tentative stride. He imagined himself an adventurer, discovering a new land for the very first time; he imagined what it would be like, to come home and tell Ma all about his forays into the wild. Bolder, brighter, his steps grew quick, small body picking up into a trot, lopsided grin plastered squarely on his face. How awesome was this? He let his mind an imagination run wild, imagining the adventures he would have, chatting with Squishy, running-

He stopped. Someone else was there.

Someones else, actually- two someones, dark figures in the not-so-great-distance, looming impressions of limbs and bodies shrouded in the eerie light. Curious but undaunted, Zero continued walking, drawing closer to what he could now tell must be other boys. Bigger boys. Older boys, boys who must be so cool, boys who no doubt didn't get lost or play imaginary games or think about telling their adventures to their Ma's and, without really deciding to, the lightning boy drew himself a little higher, stood a little straighter, pulled his wing tightly across his back and put on his best almost-kind-of-an-adult air. Inside him he could feel a sudden, desperate desire to impress these boys, to befriend them and learn about the intricacies of manhood, which they no doubt understood.

From his position behind them Zero cleared his throat.

"Hey!" The lightning's son called out, willing his voice to be deep, willing himself to seem non-chalant despite the excitement that trembled his tailfeathers and the grin that threatened to overtake his face, "Hey, guys, watcha' doin'? I'm Zèklè."Zèklè, he said- because suddenly he felt a stinging desire to be taken seriously, to impress these children with his real name, not his baby nickname, Zero.

Erebos' response elicited a nod from Öde, in that the place was familiar and Öde need not play teacher today on the names of the gods and their broken armaments they left here. Though, admittedly Öde wondered just what Erebos knew about this place that maybe he didn't. After all, Öde had mostly wandered here alone and curious, but Erebos' tone seemed to suggest a more intimate familiarity. Öde wondered, but did not ask, and at Erebos' own question the trail of those thoughts blew away to others.

"These gods?" he asked to confirm, and as if to be sure himself he threw his gaze around the cracked earth that bled blue. "In passing, but never alone or really introduced." He hoped that might some day change, because he was curious to know these gods better, or at all. Still, a smile lingered on the dark lips of the grown boy, a knowing sort of, mischievous shadow on the lines of his face that lent a red-eyed stare to the kin at his side. "Others though, other gods I have met." He might have divulged more information then if not for the interruption of the younger colt.

The sound of another's voice turned Öde's ears and in quick pursuit, his eye. Gleaming red the stare bore down upon the youth Zèklè. It was at once apparent that there was something wrong with the colt, and it left a puzzled expression on Öde's facade as he openly stared, gawked even. He had heard stories of course, of pegasus' wings being ripped off, but he had never seen it, and never having really dealt with any birds yet had no knowledge of the appendages. "Your wing," he started, utterly forgoing tact and manners as his roving, hungry stare plucked on the exposed weakness like a hen pecking at blood until her friend was dead. "What happened to it?" Because it wasn't just that there was no wing - that in itself would be engrossing enough. No, this child also had gleaming sterling shit in place of the wing, like it had been eaten by whatever metal gleamed there so satisfied now.

Then of course there was the matter of that thing that was accompanying him. Öde's eyes washed over it now, perturbed in a way he never had been, but only because he didn't know what the fuck it was. Companions he had seen, but this was like an amalgamation of mud and rocks and somehow it moved. "And what is that," he demanded, his awe mixing with his disgusted rejection of the mobile blob to create something like incredulity.

After a moment Öde seemed to realize his erroneous response and clearing his throat and diverted his gaze less aggressively towards the boy's own eyes. Clearing his throat he murmured, "I'm Öde, by the way."

The princeling was always enticed by some measure, some level, of intrigue. There were too many wiles, too many stories, too many snares buzzing, pervading, and billowing through the world to not be enamored or beguiled by their interesting ploys, their curious features. He absorbed and brandished and wanted to know the world for what it was and for what it could be; how he might be able to shift tactics, how he might be able to conquer lands, demons, and foes, how he might be able to annihilate and obliterate. Ode’s words struck synapses and sentiments spiraling about his cranium, latching onto the Machiavellian regards with a healthy snap, ears flickering, brow lifting, head tilting, all resolved to catch every syllable his cousin offered. These Gods?, he’d said, as if there were many more left undiscovered and unknown, rampaging through the world in silence and power; and the boy yearned for the details, led right down the primrose path. The fact that he’d met other Gods – holy beings not belonging to their meadows, hills, and valleys, devout cretins and otherworldly creatures springing up from lands well beyond their reach – was enough to warrant attention and questions, lingering queries and uncertainties. But how did he know about them? Erebos had been taught some legends of Isilme by his mother, and all their gods, their descendants, the ties and binds, and he knew about the ones here, harsh and unyielding, blunt and obliging, but what of the others Ode spoke of? His voice was all curiosity, all song and dance and wonder, mouth slightly agape, beholden to the pieces the older boy had to bestow. “What have you seen-“But he was cut off, segmented elsewhere, attention snared by the newest arrival; someone, or something he’d never seen before. Riveted, he stood in utter silence, eyes widened all the more, studying, examining, and wondering over the being that had floated their way – and while Ode simply questioned with whatever came to his mind, the smaller cretin took his time. The younger boy was a combination of wings, feathers, and metal, as if long ago someone had tarnished and dragged and tried to annihilate him with only miniscule results (here, Erebos pondered if the outcome would’ve been the same with Aithniel had he not stopped Zikar-Sin from his studies, if she’d been ripped apart and thrown away). But the Pegasus child didn’t seem hindered, didn’t appear to mind the obvious difference in his movements and motions; perhaps that was all he’d known in his short life. So instead of following Ode’s multitude and barrage of queries, the blue scion lowered his head to meet Zekle’s level, furnished his mouth with a friendly, affable grin, and proffered greetings. “Hello! I’m Erebos!” He ignored Orsino’s harsh, unrelenting stare towards the child, eyeing the juvenile as if it were an easy target, feasible prey, and chose to glance at the strange little beast resting on the lad. His expression took on one more curious endeavor and his mind twisted into content, delighted contortions – because here, he’d been given enough enigmas, enough quandaries, enough riddles and puzzles to learn, fascinate, and eventually devastate.

So. Straight to the heart of the matter on turn one, huh? Zero's grin faltered but did not break, though inside he was reeling from the directness of the unicorn's words, and the way his red eyes roamed across the barren side like sharks circling their prey. Of course he asked about this, of course- it was what everyone noticed, everyone asked. The first thing they ever saw when they looked at him was that big empty patch of metal that glared so angrily in any amount of light.

So Zero just had to make sure the second impression was the one that stuck.

The grin faltered but did not fall from Zero's inky lips. It helped that the other boy was smiling at him, and it helped that caught up again and was sitting obediently at the boy's hocks. He pulled himself up higher (or tried- there really wasn't much more up for him to go), doing his best to muster up the best impression of Ma's good-natured firecrackery and echo it for these boys. "I dunno," he answered glibly, glaring defiantly back at the red-eyed colt, "But it doesn't stop me from bein' awesome!" And then, in a stroke of either genius or idiocy, he added boldly, "How 'bout you? What makes you awesome?"

Amazingly, his plan seemed to be working, because now the boy was staring at Squishy, who was definitely evidence of Zero's awesome skills. "That's Squishy!" the grinned loudly and eagerly, happy to have attention shift away from him and toward his brilliant creation. "Squishy, come say hi! Careful, though, he'll zap ya if y'make him mad."

With the golem acting as a buffer between Zero and the bigger colts, the lightning-backed boy felt significantly braver, his earlier trepidation all but lost. He turned to Erebos, finally free from the transfixing gaze of the very intense Öde, bright voice cutting into the air again. "Where're y'from? Didja see the big monsters? Did you help fight 'em? I did! D'ya think they'll come back?"

The questions came in a breathless rush, without pause. Zero was excited, and when he got excited he got curious, and when he got curious he talked. He wanted to both show off and learn more, to demonstrate his awesomeness while taking in theirs, which he was confident they had.

His cousin proved once again to be far more capable in the business of making allies. Lena had certainly done her best with him, but he'd nearly been grown by the time she took him in. Too long under the care of October, in the fit of wraithdom, and then alone had left him rough around the edges to say the least. He knew the idea behind being gentlemanly, but his sneers seemed to find their way long before his smiles, like someone that knew to check a gun's safety but only after shooting their damn foot.

Thankfully, Zekle wasn't gun shy.

His response came boldly from still-grinning lips, and Öde marveled at such well, positivity. Either whatever had happened to his wing wasn't all that bad, or he was just so use to telling the tale it no longer phased him. Though, he decidedly didn't tell any tale at all, which did nothing to satiate Öde's curiosity, but he'd rather such a bright brush off as that than a new foe to contend with. Some things we just weren't meant to know he supposed.

"Everything," Öde murmured in nonplussed response, though his grin was genuine, and the arrogance in his tone well deserved (so he thought). He attempted to demonstrate by snuffing out the magic in the monstrosity that bumbled behind the boy, but he felt one of his rare moments of ineffectiveness, which bore a frustrated pout to his features and an indiscernible growl from his chest. "It's your companion?" he asked with he continued awed disgust, though noticeably more of the latter now that he realized he had no control over it.

"Let him try, death doesn't scare me," Öde snorted at the warning, though seemed to recoil faintly from the golem all the same. So maybe he couldn't die, but he could still be hurt and that sucked regardless.

As the boy's attention shifted towards his cousin, Öde continued to berate squishy with his stare, as if he might understand the thing the more he looked at it. An ear flicked at the slew of questions, and though still preoccupied with his own predicament to feel anything regarding the boisterous youth and his curiosity, Öde managed one response off hand. "Spark God said the Rift has been dealt with. No new horses and their lands or their gods," and witht he way he said it, it was unclear if he was morose or proud.